I'm Done
by neverforgetme12
Summary: It's been five years since Stiles left Beacon Hills in hopes of never returning, but now that he's back will he fall back into the supernatural world? Will he be able to rebuild his friendships? Will him and Lydia finally have their chance? #Stydia Summary sucks
1. Chapter 1: Letting Go

**Hello Teen Wolf fanatics! Here is the first chapter of my next big story, "I'm Done." I hope you all enjoy the story and please follow and review! **

**Summary: It's been five years since Stiles left Beacon Hills in hopes of never returning but now that he's back, will he be able to rebuild his friendships? Will Stiles and Lydia finally have a chance? #Stydia**

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**Chapter One: Letting Go  
**

"I'm done, Scott." Stiles said numbly.

"W-what do you mean man?" Scott asked questioningly. He knew Stiles had been through a lot but Stiles couldn't mean what he was saying. Stiles couldn't just give up.

"I'm done, I'm out. I can't do this anymore!" Stiles yelled now frustrated he had to spell this out to his so called best friend. He'd been through hell and back this year and after hiding his fear and agonizing anger and regret, he had cracked. Issues that he had buried deep inside him for the past three years all came rushing back in a matter of seconds and his friend just didn't get it. Scott didn't understand what it was like to be so weak while everyone else was so strong. To be controlled by something so sinister, yet know its face as if it was a friend. He didn't understand the guilt that he now held for the rest of his life.

"Stiles, calm down. Look, things got bad okay. People got hurt. But we found the answer. We fixed everything. We saved you alright. You're alive and the nogitsune is dead." Scott said taking another step closer to Stiles.

His best friend was just standing there, silently staring at the gravel in the school parking lot. He'd been quiet for most of the time inside, only answering the questions that wouldn't lead to more questions from the police. He wanted to help, but hell how could he explain everything to them without them thinking he was crazy. Again. The void, the nogitsune, the nematon, it was all because of _him._ _He_ made the bomb that killed the all those police officers. _He_ was one that told Barrow to kill Kira. _He_ was the one that twisted the sword lodged in Scott's stomach.

Everything was so messed up. The way Stiles' father just looked at the dead body of yet another student, unmoving.

Silence covered the school as a group EMTs carried Aiden's lifeless body onto a gurney. Everyone was stunned. The nogitsune was dead, Allison was dead and now Aiden was dead.

Scott's dad was the first to take action. Both he and the Sheriff made a plan that placed no blame on any of kids. It was almost funny, how two trusting law officials could concoct such a great false alibi for their kids.

"…..things will never be okay Scott, I killed people. I hurt everyone. Do you know how that feels? To know that I stole the lives of so many innocent people!" Stiles screamed, finally making eye contact with his best friend. His chest hurt and his eyes stung. The emotions of the day began to weigh him down. Hell, the emotions of the year were weighing him down. He couldn't handle it in anymore.

"You weren't you Stiles. You were being controlled. What happen was an accident." Scott couldn't bear looking at his friend's tears any longer but he had to reassure him. He needed Stiles. He needed his best friend and what he was saying wasn't sounding good.

"It doesn't matter! Everyone's dead! And no matter how many times you tell yourself that everything will be okay, Scott, you're wrong! Nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be okay. Allison's dead, alright! She's dead and she's never coming back and it's all because of me. I did this to her. I killed her." Stiles screamed, tears uncontrollably running down his face.

Scott didn't get it. He would never get it. He would never understand the agonizing guilt Stiles felt pulsing through his veins every second of every day.

"You didn't have control, Stiles! You weren't yourself. This is not your fault!" Scott screamed back, frustration laced in his voice.

"But it is, Scott. It is my fault. I let him in at the Eichen House. I let him take me over. I didn't fight him like you think I did. I made it easy for him." Stiles said bitterly.

Stiles sighed. "Look, I'm not telling you this because I want you to reassure me or something. I'm telling you this because I need to let go. I need to let go of everything that this godforsaken town has ever cursed me with. " He continued, suddenly calm. His anger was gone now and all he felt was a heavy sadness taking over his heart. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to say goodbye.

"What are you saying, Stiles?" Scott said even though he knew the answer. He knew his friend had hit his breaking point. Knew he couldn't stand to see the site of anything in Beacon Hills knowing everything he'd done.

"You know what I mean, Scott. I'm leaving and I'm never coming back. I have to get out of here. I have to start over." Stiles admitted, now looked his friend straight in the eyes.

He needed to get through to him.

He needed Scott to understand because even now, when Scott's eyes are filled with such heartache, Stiles still knows he's going to leave. He knows that there is nothing Scott could say or do that would change his mind.

For once, he was saving himself.

"Stiles, we need you. Everything that happen…We get will get through this. We always do." Scott pleaded.

He was losing. He was losing his best friend and there was nothing he could do.

"Not this time."

Scott could feel his anger seeping through his body again. It was their responsibility to protect everyone in Beacon Hills. Why couldn't Stiles see that?

"What about everyone else? Have you told them that you're leaving?" Scott asked quickly, knowing that if he could just get Lydia to talk to Stiles, maybe he would change his mind.

"No and I'm not going to. I don't need anyone trying to talk me out of leaving."

"You can't just leave without saying goodbye, man. That's not you."

"I don't even know who I am anymore, Scott! That's why I'm leaving. I need a chance to find out who I am without all of this supernatural bullshit."

"Beacon Hills is your home." Scott whispered simply. The realization that Stiles was actually leaving was finally sinking in and he was surprised he wasn't so angry anymore. Deep down he knew Stiles was right. He needed to start over. He needed this. And out of all people, Stiles deserved a fresh start more than anybody.

He could be anyone he wanted to be, live any life he wanted. And on some level, Scott was jealous of his best friend. Stiles could leave. Scott couldn't. He had too much responsibility, too much here that needed to be fixed. And even if he left, wouldn't the supernatural follow him? He was in fact, a werewolf.

"Beacon Hills _was_ home. It stopped being my home a long time ago." Stiles said, sounding defeated. He realized their conversation was coming to an end. That their friendship, one that started such a young age, was ending because he was too scared to stay. Too scared to try and fight another problem and lose. That was the real reason Stiles was leaving. The real reason he was leaving Beacon Hills.

He was a coward. He wasn't brave like Scott who fought to protect the weak, or Derek who fought to protect his pack. He wasn't brave like Alison _had_ been or Lydia, who continues to face her banshee powers. He just wasn't like any of them. He was scared, selfish, and stupid. He hated himself for taking the easy way out of this. He hated himself for running, but he didn't know what else to do. He didn't want to die.

It was silent between the young boys for several moments. Both of them stuck in their own thoughts. Stiles always thought that he and Scott would be neighbors one day. Scott would be married to Allison and Stiles would be married to Lydia. They would hang out all the time and their kids would grow up together. But now he was leaving town and things were never going to be the same. Allison was dead, Lydia would likely forget about him, and Scott would never forgive him for leaving town.

The whole situation sucked.

Scott broke the silence when he suddenly pulled Stiles into a warm brotherly hug.

And for one second, Stiles almost changes his mind.

Almost.

"I'm going to miss you man. Stay. Safe. Please." Scott pleaded for the second time. He really wanted Stiles to be safe but most of all, he really wanted Stiles to be happy and if leaving would help him, than he needed to leave.

Stiles sniffed his nose, trying to nonchalantly wipe a tear from his cheek as he nodded in agreement. This was it. He was leaving. He was leaving Beacon Hills and never coming back.

Stiles got into his jeep and started the engine. It would take him and his dad several hours to get to Arizona and the drive out of Beacon Hills was going to be the worse part of it all. He was dreading the drive past the school, the lacrosse field, and the homes of all of his friends.

"Bye Scott." Stiles said, taking one last glance at his friend. He hoped he would find a way one day to forgive for leaving.

"Bye Stiles."

Stiles drove out of the hospital parking lot, not daring to look in the rearview mirror at Scott who was still standing there numbly.

_He'll be ok. He'll be ok. Just keep driving. Keep driving, Stiles. _

When Stiles arrived at his house everything was packed. Every piece of furniture from the silverware, to the little pictures which hung in the dining room wall, were packed neatly into boxes. The Sheriff had been packing for several hours, not taking a moment to rest. He wanted out of Beacon Hills just as much as his son did.

Sure, he had to resign from his sheriff position quickly, but after the hell he had just seen his son go through, he didn't think twice about moving. This was for the best. There would plenty of job opportunities in Arizona for him and good schools for Stiles, too.

He and Stiles spent the last hour finalizing the packing and making sure everything was packed and not forgotten. Once they said their emotional goodbyes to their house of 20 years, John and Stiles got into the jeep and drove with the movers following closely behind.

As John drove, Stiles watched Beacon Hill flash before his eyes. All the memories, the good and the bad, began to fall behind them and just like the emerging sun, the future seemed just upon the horizon.

**So what do you guys think? Chapter one doesn't have much Stydia in it, but I promise there will be plenty of them in the next few chapters. Please don't forget to make a review!**


	2. Chapter 2:You Again

**Chapter two is finally here! Sorry it took so long but I was super busy this week! So I know that the last chapter didn't have any Stydia in it, but I promise you'll see plenty of them in future chapters. Anyways, please comment and review telling me how you like the story so far.**

**Lots of love!**

**Shout outs to Nicole, TeenWolf24, Garso, and Guest (you know who you are!)**

* * *

_Time is a funny thing. Each day we live our lives struggling to stay afloat for each and every minute, trying to make it all count._

_But eventually, we get to this point, this point where we look back and wonder where it all went._

_Where did our lives go?_

Five years.

It had been five years since the day Stiles left Beacon Hills.

Five years since he'd left the place that ruined his life.

And now he was back.

The town looked the same. The school, the police station, the hospital, it was if nothing had changed.

_How much time has to go by before something shows its decay? When does it fall to ashes?_ Stiles wondered.

Everything was the same. Except, it wasn't. The town seemed colder, angrier if possible. The clouds drowned the sun, filling the place with only gray.

Bile crept into Stiles's throat, burning his eyes and immediately setting him on edge. The very few good memories of his childhood were gone now, pushing only the darkest moments of his life in full view. This town may have not been evil anymore, but the memories still were.

Every inch of this place took Stiles back to his nightmares. It took him back to the sound of his screams and the death that surrounded him.

"I never thought we'd ever come back." John said flatly, breaking the silence between him and Stiles. He could feel his nervousness rising up inside of him, threatening to break to the surface as they drove further and further into town.

"Yeah, me too." Stiles breathed out, nervously tapping on the window as he watched everything flash by. He remembered it all too clearly. He remembered the school, the hospital and the sheriff station. He remembered the friends he'd left behind.

"I-I think this is a bad idea, Stiles. I think we should go back." John professed, his hold on the steering wheel deathly tight.

Stiles rolled his eyes in response. "Dad, we've driven seven hours to be here. We're not going back. "

"But wh-"

"DAD, its fine. We're only here for three days alright, and then we go home."

The Sheriff turned to look at his son for a moment, ready to argue with him, but instead he found himself admiring his son's bravery.

Stiles was no longer the gangly, awkward, scared boy he once was.

Time had matured him.

Now, at twenty two, he was stronger, braver and even more stubborn.

His body had changed, too. His shoulders were wider now, his stance more solid and dominant, and his muscles were lean. _He looks like a man_, John thought proudly. Sure, Stiles still had a young face but it was hardened by the darkness in his eyes and the permanent frown on his lips.

Even after five years of peace, Stiles was still hurting.

Back in Arizona, their lives were fairly typical. Stiles had gotten to do everything a high school student should do. And for a time, John truly did believe Stiles was happy. Eventually, the memories did come back though and the nightmares returned.

Still, he hadn't seen that type of nervousness in his son's eyes for years and now, being back in Beacon Hills brought it out.

"Three days. Three days and we're back home. No exceptions." John demanded.

"Three days orrrr seventy-two hours if you wanna be specific." Stiles stated.

John chuckled. "Three days."

John stopped laughing immediately when they drove into the funeral home parking lot.

_This a terrible idea,_ he thought as he noticed Stiles start counting his fingers.

* * *

The funeral home was packed. Like every row, every seat, every miniscule crevice packed. The whole town had come to pay their respects to Agent McCall.

They had been in the place for less than five minutes when Stiles began to hear the town whispers.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn't stupid. He knew what they were all saying.

"_That's the boy who went crazy his junior year. He even spent time in a nuthouse."_

"_Yeah, after that one girl died he and his father just up and left town without saying a word to anybody."_

"_Poor man, first his wife went crazy and then his son."_

Stiles took a step closer to John as they made their way down the line to greet Melissa and give their condolences.

"Could this be any weirder?" Stiles muttered to his father.

"Nope. Now shut up and face forward. And don't look at any of them in the eye." John whispered back, overly smiling at an older couple who was scowling at them.

Stiles chuckled. He didn't really care about what most of the town thought of him. He was used to their whispers, but it was just all so strange, seeing the town again. He'd had dreams about it, lots of dreams in fact, but actually being here, actually seeing the town again was different. It was like a bad case of déjà vu and it brought back a thousand emotions Stiles didn't want to encounter again.

"John? Stiles?" Melissa suddenly asked, pulling Stiles back into reality.

"Melissa, hi." John said breathlessly.

"Hi." She repeated back, smiling slightly.

_This would almost be funny if it wasn't so goddamn sad_, Stiles thought to himself. He knew his father had always had a crush on Melissa. When he and Scott were growing up, the two parents had become inseparable. In fact, up until they moved, Stiles really thought that Melissa and his father would eventually get together.

Perhaps, in another life the two of them would have gotten married.

"Hi, Melissa." Stiles inserted awkwardly when he couldn't take the silence anymore.

Melissa smiled softly at him, tears rimming her eyes. She was about to say something when John cut her off unexpectedly by pulling her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry for your lost." John whispered to her. Melissa nodded in response and tightened her hold on John.

The two of them stood there, in each others embrace, whispering softly to one another.

Stiles shifted nervously on his feet, teetering away from his father and Melissa. He contemplated walking away and giving them space but where exactly would he go? Who would he talk to? He felt like a child, helplessly clinging to his father in the grocery store.

He was about to excuse himself to the restroom when he saw her.

Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin, his childhood crush.

Lydia Martin, his tether.

Stiles mouth went dry. She was still beautiful, still confident in her 5'3 stature. Her was hair was shorter though, shoulder length and slightly darker. Her smile was still the same, still stunning, but her eyes were different.

Perhaps it was from age, perhaps it was from experience, but Lydia's eyes seemed older than twenty-two. They were much darker now, much sadder. Stiles understood that darkness. He had memorized it himself in the mirror everyday for the last five years. It was the type of darkness that stayed with you. The type of darkness that was permanent.

She stood there, in the front of the room, standing next to her parents when she met his gaze. Her face dropped for a moment and her eyes went wide with shock at his appearance.

"Lydia." Stiles said to himself aloud, noticing her confused expression. He was about to walk up to her when he suddenly felt his father grab onto his arm and pull him to the back of the room.

"Hello everyone." Melissa said shyly from the podium in front of everyone.

Stiles took one more look at Lydia before he followed his father to the back row of seats. She was still staring at him, a confused expression on her face, until her mother grabbed her hand and led her to the seats near the front.

The service was fairly long. Mr. McCall had lots of admirers who felt the need to speak on his behalf. Most of them were people from his work, police officers complimenting on his work ethic. One of the younger officers even bragged that Rafe was like a father to him, causing Stiles to roll his eyes.

_"Yeah, he probably treated you more like a son than he did with Scott."_ Stiles thought to himself angrily.

_"Speaking of Scott, where is he_?" Stiles wondered.

Earlier, he'd caught Malia and Derek glaring at him from one of the middle rows. And a little later, he'd seen Chris and Isaac sitting together near the back of the room.

He was about to ask his father where Scott was when he heard one of the side doors open.

Stiles looked up to see Scott and Kira quietly entering the funeral home, holding hands. They made their way quietly to the front of the room where Scott then leaned down and whispered something in Kira's ear and she nodded. She broke away from his grasps and silently sat down with Melissa.

Scott walked nervously to the podium, his eyes avoiding the crowd of people.

"H-hi, everyone. Thank you all f-for coming." Scott stuttered, his voice weak and frail. Stiles cringed at his former friend. For as long as Stiles knew him, Scott was never good at public speaking.

Scott closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "My dad and I had our fair share of problems. We weren't perfect by any means. I mean we are the McCall's. Perfect isn't in our description, am I right?"

Stiles grimaced at Scott's terrible attempt to make a joke. Scott coughed and shifted uncomfortably.

"Right, not funny. The truth is I-"

….

The room went silent for a moment and Stiles looked up to see Scott staring straight at him.

He could feel the eyes darting between him and Scott and the whispers begin to get louder.

Scott continued to look at Stiles, his expression unreadable.

Stiles gulped nervously, his eyes shifting across the entire room.

Scott blinked for a moment and looked around the room as if in shock. "I-I uh, yeah…my dad. My dad was a good guy, I guess. Um, I-I need to go. I'm sorry." He said, practically running out of the door with Kira on his heels.

Everyone in the crowd started talking all at once, but Stiles couldn't hear a word. He was too busy noticing the death stare Derek, Malia, Isaac _and_ Chris were giving him from their seats.

_Yeah, things could definitely get weirder…._


	3. Chapter 3: Too Much

**So once again I'm sorry I haven't updated in a long time but I've been super busy this week. This chapter is much longer than I anticipated but I don't think anyone's complaining right?**

**Please tell me what you guys think! I could really use more reviews.  
**

* * *

_If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we aren't really living._

After the funeral, Melissa insisted that Stiles and John come over for dinner with some close family and friends.

The two men were reluctant at first, both not wanting to impose or fuel up any tension that lingered within the pack.

It was like walking around with a ticking time bomb, waiting for the final second before everything fell apart.

In their case, they were the bomb.

"No, no, no I insists. It's the least I could do considering the show my son just put on." Melissa said, shaking her head in response. She was embarrassed with her son's actions. After all, Scott's outburst had shocked everyone, including her.

John looked at his son wearily, wondering if they afford to stay here any longer. In truth, John wanted to stay. He wanted to be there for Melisa, but his son came first. Stiles always came first.

Stiles looked back at his father's yearning eyes, knowing that John wanted to stay. He knew that ever since the nogitsune fiasco, John had been dying to help someone.

"Yeah, of course." Stiles smiled smoothly, choosing to ignore the annoying pounding in his head.

Both John and Melissa smiled in response, their relief evident in their eyes.

Inside, Stiles could feel the wave of fear beginning to take hold of him, dragging his mind into the dark abyss.

* * *

Close family and friends consisted of most of the people at the ceremony. Piles upon piles of cars were circled around the McCall house, leaving absolutely no reassurance in Stiles that the next few hours were going to be anything but pleasant.

When both men reached the doorway, Stiles froze. He couldn't move his feet. It was as if he had no control over them, a slave to his instincts.

He could smell the faint scent of cinnamon wafting from the doorway, persuading him to move forward. Stiles took a deep breathe. This place used to be a safe haven for him. It used to hold such fond memories.

Now it just reminded him everything he ran away from, of everything he missed.

He missed everything too much.

* * *

The minute they got into the house, Stiles could feel the tension in the room like a heavy weight pushing down on his chest. There were so many familiar faces here. So many people who knew his story.

"I'm going to go see Melissa. Will you be alright alone for a minute?" John asked, interrupting Stiles' thought.

Stiles glanced around the room nervously, secretly praying his father could hear his erratic heartbeat. "Yeah, I'll be fine." He lied.

John smiled gratefully at his son before venturing towards the kitchen where Melissa's soft brown curls could be seen.

Stiles chuckled. His father actually reminded him of himself back in high school, always chasing after that one special girl.

Speaking of that one special girl, where was Lydia? She had to be here somewhere.

One part of Stiles really hoped that she wasn't here, but another (his heart in particular) really, really wanted to see her again. He really wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh. He wanted to hold her close and never let her go…..

Stiles groaned in frustration. Even after all of those years, he still felt this strong connection to Lydia. Sure, there were girls in Arizona. A lot of girls actually, but he'd never felt as strongly about them as he did with Lydia. She was his epic love.

Stiles was just about to go in search of the strawberry blonde when he suddenly felt a dark pair of eyes staring at him.

He turned to his side to see none other than Derek Hale glaring at him with such furiosity that it scared even him. And that was saying a lot, considering.

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He didn't want to duke it out with Derek today, but he also wasn't going to lie down and take the beating that was bound to happen.

When he reopened his eyes, Derek was gone, leaving no trace that he was even there in the first place.

"Crap." Stiles muttered to himself. Now, not only was he dealing with the judging eyes of his former peers, but he was also avoiding an overly sour, revengeful werewolf.

* * *

"It was soooo nice to see you again, Stiles." Courtney, a former Beacon Hills student, slurred in his ear.

He was just minding his own business, stealing glances at old photographs when suddenly out of nowhere, she fell into his arms.

It was weird considering he and Courtney weren't even that close in high school. In fact, Stiles was honestly surprised she even knew his name.

"You too, Courtney." Stiles chuckled, quickly grabbing hold of the girl's arm to stop her from stumbling.

Courtney giggled. "You khnow, y-you got hot right?" She said sheepishly, her face so close to Stiles' that he could smell the alcohol on her breathe.

Stiles inwardly gagged. Drunk girls at funerals? Yeah, never attractive.

"Thanks, um you should probably sit down and drink this." Stiles said, gesturing towards his water bottle.

"Too bad you're kinda crazy." Courtney whispered, smiling lopsidedly. Her stringy blonde hair was fussed to her face and her eyes were completely bloodshot.

Stiles could only guess that she was either stoned and drunk or sad and in mourning.

Regardless of what he thought, Stiles still gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"How well did you know Rafael?" Stiles asked casually, stiffening as Courtney laced her fingers around his neck.

Courtney frowned in response. "Too well. You know he never loved her, right? He told me himself."

_And there it is._

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. Drunk girls mourning over men who they had affairs with? Definitely not his type. "I have to go use the bathroom." He said annoyed.

"Wait, I'll go with you." She slurred, her face contorting strangely as she tried to raise her eyebrows seductively.

"Yeah, I don't think so." He replied angrily as he pried her hands off his neck and quickly distanced himself from her.

* * *

Eventually after some extensive avoiding, Stiles ended upstairs. This whole party was really exhausting. He was tired of faking the small talk and the smiles.

Still, he had to prove to everyone that he wasn't that crazy boy anymore. He had to redeem his family name for his father's sake.

Stiles took a deep breathe, mentally preparing to go back and socialize with the rest of the party downstairs.

When he turned around, he caught his breathe.

Scott stood there in front of him, his body completely rigid as he took in the sight of his former best friend.

"Scott, hey." Stiles smiled nervously, breaking the silence as he placed his hands in his pockets.

For the first time in a long time, he was fidgety and it sent a strange feeling down to the pit of his stomach.

Scott continued to stare at him, his face unreadable. "Hi, Stiles." He muttered simply.

"You um…you look good, Scott. You know, considering." Stiles winced. When did it become so hard for him to talk to his best friend?

Oh yeah, when he felt.

Scott's eyebrows burrowed in confusion. "Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah, so have how you been?" Stiles asked awkwardly. Even though he hadn't talked to Scott in a long time, he still cared about him. He knew how hard it was for him to lose his father.

"Stiles, no offense but it's been a long day and I don't really feel like talking anymore." Scott breathed out, trying to make his way past Stiles.

Stiles stepped in front of his view. "Yeah I know. It's just- It's weird me being back, right? In town, I mean. Everything looks the same."

Scott sighed loudly, clearly agitated with his former friend. "Yeah, but nothings the same anymore, Stiles."

Stiles shivered. He could feel the spite in Scott's voice, piercing his heart. "But everyone's still here. I mean Derek, Malia, Kira, hell even Lydia."

"Because they're pack. When you're a pack, you don't leave each other." Scott said bitterly.

Stiles held his hands up in defense. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Scott any more than he already was. "Right. Sorry, I was rambling."

Scott continued to frown. Stiles was beginning to think that just like him, Scott had a permanent frown on his face.

Then again, maybe Scott just hated him like everyone else.

"I should go." Scott said quickly, ignoring Stiles' stare.

Stiles nodded as he moved silently to the side so Scott could move around him.

Scott looked at him for a moment, sympathy filling his eyes for a few milliseconds. "Look….thanks for coming. I know it was hard for you to come back after everything." He admitted.

Stiles smiled sadly and shrugged. "It wasn't that hard."

Stiles swore he could see a smile crossing Scott's face, but as quick as it showed up, it was gone. Fear, an uncommon emotion in the young werewolf, replaced it. "But Stiles? Don't stay, alright. You're not safe."

Stiles gulped nervously. Not safe? What the hell does that mean?

He said nothing as he watched Scott walk past him and into his bedroom, closing the door as he did.

* * *

After a while, the party was beginning to slow down. People smiled and complimented Stiles and his father for their success in Arizona. It was sorta nice, knowing people still cared about them, even if they were all complete strangers.

Stiles excused himself from his father and an older man as he made his way towards the front yard, wanting desperately for a smoke. Yes, he smoked and he wasn't proud of it, but it wasn't like he was a heavy smoker or anything. It was just that occasionally Stiles enjoyed the peace the little box of nicotine gave him.

He could feel his father practically shooting lasers out of his eyes, angry with his son's disappearance. John hated it when Stiles smoked.

Stiles reached for the front door when he suddenly felt a large hand take hold of his shoulder. Panic ripped through his entire body, his instinct quickly taking over. Stiles whipped around swiftly, using both hands to shove the stranger back forcefully in the chest.

"Whoa whoa dude! Stiles, relax it's me, Isaac." Isaac laughed. His demeanor annoyingly nonchalant.

Stiles' chest rose and feel heavily, fear still in control of his body. He snarled at Isaac. "What the hell man! You don't sneak up on people like that!"

Isaac rose his eyebrows and shrugged. "Sorry, I forgot you're like that now."

Stiles rolled his eyes, his impatience clearly evident. He really needed a smoke. "Whatever."

"So are you here to stay or just visiting?" Isaac asked, choosing to ignore Stiles' agitation.

"Don't know."

"Cause I wouldn't stay if I were you."

Stiles tensed. "Whatever." He said again simply, trying his best to let Isaac's comments not affect him.

"Hey before you go, here's some advice; don't get attached. Don't talk to Scott. Don't talk to Lydia." Isaac warned, his voice suddenly deep and menacing.

Stiles laughed. He was almost afraid of the boy who stood in front of him. Sure, Isaac had changed. He was stiller, angrier and more calculating but then again, so was Stiles.

"You made your choice, Stiles. Now keep it. Don't hurt Scott or Lydia any more than you already have. " He continued, giving Stiles a once over.

Stiles could feel his anger fueling up his body. As if Isaac really thought he could intimidate him.

"I'm not here to rebuild bridges, Isaac. I'm here to pay my respects to a man who died while in the line of duty." Stiles replied, irritation evident in his voice. He was tired of all the bullshit today and he sure as hell wasn't going to be belittled by Isaac. Not him, not ever.

Isaac smirked and Stiles could feel his blood pressure go through the roof. He was preparing himself to throw a swing until he heard Mr. Argents voice over his shoulder.

"Isaac, it's time to go." Chris warned, his eyes locked on Stiles. Isaac nodded in response to his former guardian and then returned his focus back on Stiles. "If you really think Rafael died 'on the line of duty', then you've lost your touch, Stiles."

Suddenly Stiles' throat tightened. What? Did Rafael not die the way the police reports said? Of course they didn't, when did they ever?

What killed him? Was it a werewolf attack? A sacrifice? What if it was something more sinister?

"It was nice seeing you again, Stiles." Isaac grinned noticing the fear in Stiles' eyes as he walked past him and out the door.

* * *

He could feel himself dry heaving over the bathroom toilet, his hands clawing at the cold porcelain and his knees buckling underneath him.

It was all too much. Everything was all too much.

He was crying. The awful, ugly crying you do when you're too tired to speak or too frightened to breathe.

It was like he was seventeen again, weak and afraid. His breathing was becoming erratic and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

He was wrong. He was so, so wrong. Beacon Hills was still evil and it always would be.

Something had killed Rafael. Something unhuman had stolen his life and the police (once again) were in the dark.

The most nauseating part of it all, was that he and his father had spent five years avoiding this evil and now here they were, right back in the center of it all.

Stiles rested his head on the cold toilet, taking slow deep breathes to stop the panic attack. Through years of practice, he'd learned how to trick his body into calming down before his mind did. It was long and it was painful, but eventually he got results without having to rely on someone else.

He would never rely on anyone else ever again.

Stiles was snapped back to reality when he heard a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Stiles?" A painfully familiar voice asked.

Stiles outwardly cringed at the warm female voice calling his name. He looked (and felt) like complete shit.

"Hi." Lydia said, taking a step into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Stiles moaned in embarrassment and buried his head in his hands. Of course Lydia would see him having a mental breakdown. What's new?

"Not a good time, Lydia." He muttered to her, silently praying to god that Lydia would get the hint that she wasn't wanted.

"Well obviously." Lydia replied annoyed as she fixed her hair in the mirror and took a seat down next to Stiles.

Stiles chuckled. This whole thing was almost funny. He'd spent five years thinking about Lydia. Five years trying desperately to prove himself worthy of her attention. Five years dreaming of the day he would see her again.

And here he was, crying on the bathroom floor looking completely wrecked.

"You look like shit." Lydia said bluntly, looking him up and in down in slight disgusts.

"Always so subtle, Lydia." Stiles replied back sarcastically.

Lydia smiled. "That's me, subtle…..So what's wrong?" She asked seriously.

Stiles bit his lip. Lydia's question may have seemed simple, but it wasn't. A lot was wrong with him, with this town, with his life.

"Truth?" He asked her.

"Truth."

Stiles hesitated for a moment, silently thinking of a way to explain the chaos in his mind to her. "This town scares the crap out of me yet, I still feel like it's my home. I still feel like I should somehow protect it. Is that weird?"

Lydia shook her head. "No, it makes you Stiles. After all of this time, you're still you." She said, her voice a mere whisper at the last part.

"I don't think that's a good thing." Stiles breathed out, looking down at his hands.

Being back in Beacon Hills didn't just scare him, it made him hate himself again. It made him remember all of the terrible things he'd done.

Without a word, Lydia placed her hand on Stiles' and laced their fingers together. "It is, trust me."

Stiles looked at Lydia carefully, not being able to tell if she was being honest with him. "Thanks." He said, smiling up at her.

Lydia nodded and picked herself up from the floor, Stiles following in suit. "No more crying." She demanded.

"I uh….I wasn't-" Stiles stuttered.

"Stiles, it's fine. You don't have to explain it to me. I get it." Lydia said reassuringly, touching his shoulder softly.

Stiles nodded absently, suddenly distracted by the warmth her touch spread through his entire body. Although her words brought him comfort, he still cursed himself for showing his weakness in front of her.

"Do you have time to meet up tomorrow? We could go shopping and maybe get something to eat if you want." Lydia asked, her eagerness almost evident in her voice.

Stiles froze for a moment. He could think of a million reasons to say no. A million ways that someone could and most definitely would get hurt.

Yet, somehow knowing all of this, Stiles didn't really care. He was tired of thinking. He was tired of being careful.

"Yeah, absolutely."

**So what do you guys think? Over 3,000 words! Next chapter will be up next week. Please ignore stupid grammar errors.**


	4. Chapter 4: Choice

**This is a much shorter chapter, but it has a lot of Stydia in it so I'm happy. Please, please, please write a review. I want to know if anyone actually reads the story.**

* * *

_It's usually the ones who are willing to do anything and everything for others that end up getting hurt._

"I can't believe I'm sitting here in Beacon Hills with Lydia Martin drinking herbal tea stuff." Stiles said in amusement as he and Lydia huddled together at a little table in the coffee shop. The minute Stiles saw the place, he loved it. The shop was warm and welcoming, the bright walls beautifully painted with murals of flowers and different quotes instantly putting Stiles at ease.

He was glad Lydia forced him into trying it out that morning.

"It's Ginkgo Biloba Tea, Stiles." Lydia corrected. "It's supposed to calm nerves, but clearly you're immune to its magic."

"Um, I have ADHD. Nothing calms me down, you know that Lyds." Stiles stated simply.

Lydia suppressed an eye roll and laughed. "God, you haven't changed a bit have you?" She asked, secretly half serious. He sure as hell didn't look the same. Shockingly (and frustratingly) for Lydia, Stiles went from dorky and lanky, to hot and muscular within the time span of five years.

Stiles frowned slightly and bit his lip. "I certainly hope so. I was a loser back then."

"That's not true! You were charming and sweet." Lydia said in his defense. Back then, he was her lovable idiot. Now, he was smoking gorgeous and clearly more comfortable with himself. It was beyond annoying and confusing for Lydia.

"I'm not charming anymore?" Stiles asked, playfully touching his heart in a mock hurt expression.

"_You're too charming."_ Lydia thought to herself breathlessly, and she knew she wasn't the only one taking notice. Stiles was catching every girl's attention in the little coffee shop. It was infuriating to watch all of these girls blatantly checking out _her_ Stiles.

"Are you kidding? Every girl is practically eye rapping you right now." Lydia growled after noticing one of the baristas, who had shamelessly ogled Stiles' hunky body earlier, send him a wink from across the counter.

Stiles' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "They probably just recognize me." He shrugged innocently.

Lydia scowled. "Are you serious? Have you looked in a mirror recently, Stiles? You got hot." Lydia blurted out angrily as she sent some overly curious brunette the death stare when Stiles wasn't looking.

Stiles blushed at her offhanded compliment. "So where we are shopping today, Lyds? Dillard's? Macys? Some ancient ruin grounds?" He asked, choosing to change the subject and ignore his racing heart.

Lydia scoffed at him. "Just one place? No, Stiles I have you for the entire day and I'm going to make the most of it. We are going _everywhere_."

Stiles' eyes bulged as Lydia began to list all the places they were going to stop by. "Wait, isn't 'Albertine' across town?" He asked, slightly frightened.

"It's only like two hours away, no biggie." Lydia shrugged.

"TWO HOURS!" Stiles shrieked.

Lydia took a deep breath and sighed. "Please, it's not that far. Besides, I know you loved shopping with me that one time before Winter Formal."

"I did not!" Stiles replied hastily. But in truth, he loved shopping with Lydia. He loved hanging out with her anytime he could.

"Did too." Lydia replied adamantly.

"Did not."

Lydia raised her eyebrows at him credulously, her lack of patience so evident in her eyes that even someone as clueless as Stiles caught it.

"Okay, I did." Stiles agreed. "But only because I had the world's biggest crush on you!" He said in his defense.

Lydia looked at him for a moment, remembrance taking hold of all her emotions. "Um, yeah I remember that." She remember him buying her lovely gifts for her birthday, comforting her when she cried and telling her she was beautiful. She remembered everything.

Stiles' sudden groan brought Lydia back to the present. "Oh god, please don't remember it." He said bashfully as he covered his face in his hands. "It was so pathetic."

Lydia frowned. "It wasn't pathetic. It was cute. You were the first person who made me feel special, Stiles." She said without thinking. She didn't want him to feel embarrassed for caring about her. She wanted Stiles to be glad that he loved her.

"Well, in my defense, you are special. You always have been, always will be." Stiles told her.

Lydia stared at him in complete awe. How could this man always know the right thing to say?

"Really?" She whispered, her heart beating profusely out of her chest.

"Yeah of course. This is fun by the way. You and me hanging out and stuff." Stiles grinned as he took another sip of his tea.

Lydia practically burst into tears. How could he be so oblivious? "Stiles, I need to tell you something-" She began but before she could say more, Stiles suddenly jumped up from his seat.

"Hold that thought for a sec. " He said to Lydia as he walked away from the table and over to a familiar man by the register.

"Deputy Parrish?" Stiles asked the taller man.

Parrish turned around and smiled. "Stiles! I didn't know you were back in town!" He said excitedly as he patted Stiles' back in a warm greeting.

"For now, yeah." Stiles replied.

"That's great!" Parrish exclaimed.

"So how the hell are you Parrish? Or I guess I should be calling you Sheriff Parrish now, right?" Stiles asked.

"Ah yeah, it's true. Your dad trained me well." Parrish said beaming. "How is he by the way?" He asked.

Stiles smiled. "He's good. He's real good actually. He's the Sherriff back home."

"And you? Last I heard you got a degree in Criminal Justice." Parrish asked.

"Yeah, I did. I worked as a deputy myself for a while and then moved onto detective work." Stiles explained proudly. Being a detective was something he was thankful for. Every day he got to work with his father and help bring justice to the people who needed it the most. It made him feel like a better person.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Your father always bragged to us that you were smart."

"He was being polite, trust me. So how are you doing taking care of this old place? Any gun fights? Mobs? Evil Power Rangers?" Stiles joked.

"I wish. We've actually got a case going on right that's got the entire station lost. We could sure use a Stilinski to help us out." Parrish said.

Stiles' smile faltered. "But I hear you're doing so well without us. Besides my dad's got a job so-"

"But from what I hear, you don't." Parrish said quickly.

"Well I…. um… I don't-"

"That is until now. Stiles Stilinski, I am officially offering you the position as leading Homicide Detective for Beacon Hills County. "

"W-what?" Stiles stammered. How did this happen? One moment he was sitting with Lydia discussing shopping and now he was being offered a job in Beacon Hills County!

"I'm serious. Come work for me, Stiles. Our last detective quit a few months back and you'd be perfect for the position." Parrish pleaded.

"I-I don't know man. I don't have many fans here anymore." Stiles said, scrambling for an excuse.

"Exactly! That's why the position would be perfect for you! I promise you, Stiles, if you come back and work for the station, you'll be back in good graces with the whole town."

Stiles winced. Parrish sure knew how make an argument. If he came back, maybe he could fix things with Scott. Maybe he could have friends again.

"Please, Stiles. I'm begging you. I've got two homicides on plate right now and the board breathing down my neck to close up the Rafael case."

Now that caught Stiles' attention. "Rafael case? I thought he died in a robbery gone wrong." Stiles lied. He now knew that Rafael's death had nothing to do with police work and more to do with some supernatural entity.

"He did, but some of the evidence is contradicting to that and people are starting to talk. We never did find the killer." Parrish said sounding agitated.

Stiles bit his lip. He wasn't surprised the police were lost. For years he saw his father linger in his office confused and angry about a case. It was near to impossible to solve a case in this town without knowing the entire story. The police would never catch the culprit without him.

"Just consider it, alright?" Parrish begged.

Stiles nodded. He wanted to help Parrish but to do so he would have to stay in Beacon Hills. Was he really ready for that?

Stiles still hadn't wrapped him mind around the entire thing when he sat back down with Lydia.

"What was that about?" Lydia asked him seriously.

"I think I was just offered a job back in Beacon Hills."

* * *

**So I know this chapter was kind of boring but I needed to add build up to the story. Update to come next week.**

**Sneak Peek: Lydia will confess a secret.**


	5. Chapter 5: Promise

Stiles was no stranger to the whole drinking scene. Even when he was underage, he would go to parties and get drunk enough that he couldn't even remember his own name in the morning.

Drinking was like an escape from everything. Stiles could tell he was slowly spiraling out of control, getting drunk at school events and almost failing the twelfth grade.

It wasn't until his twenty first birthday that everything came crashing down.

He remembered celebrating with his so called friends at some sketchy club and downing any drink he could get his hands on. He remembered making out with some random girl and feeling sick immediately afterwards. He remembered his body convulsing aggressively as he vomited in one of the bathroom stalls and quickly passed out.

Next thing he knew, he was on a stretcher, being carried into an ambulance as he desperately tried to cover in ears from the screaming police sirens.

His doctor told him he had suffered alcohol poising and could've died if it weren't for the club owner.

Looking back, he didn't know why he did it. He didn't know why he drank _that_ much. He knew by the second shot he was getting himself into trouble but at the time, he didn't care. He liked feeling the emptiness he got when he drank and the silence that followed it when his conscious shut up.

What he didn't like was feeling helpless and lonely when he sat by himself in the hospital and waited to be released. He didn't like the lectures and the pitying stares from his father.

It wasn't that he had a drinking problem really. Stiles could stop whenever he wanted too, he just chose not to and that's what really scared him. He _wanted_ to want to be sober.

So the day after his twenty first birthday, Stiles stopped drinking cold turkey.

A year and half later, he was happily still sober. The process wasn't easy, getting sober that is. It was long and it was grueling and at times almost painful, but he did it. He got himself together and he was proud.

Yet, here he was at some random bar in Beacon Hills staring at the full shot of tequila, throwing it all away.

He didn't want to do it, but he was just so confused. Stiles didn't know if he wanted to stay in Beacon Hills and accept Parrish's job offer. He didn't know if he wanted to fix things.

On one hand, working as lead detective for Beacon Hills was a great job opportunity and an easy way to rebuild his reputation in town. On the other, it was still freaken Beacon Hills. The place was still surrounded with danger and hurtful memories that he'd have to face.

"_They will never forgive you, Stiles." _A deathly voice whispered in his head suddenly.

Stiles stilled. "Shut up." He finally mumbled a few seconds later.

"_How does it feel to be back in the place where you killed so many innocent people?"_ The nogitsune voice snickered.

"Stop it." Stiles said a little louder, causing a few stares. "Please."

"_Look at them all, Stiles. Such lazy animals. We should have killed them when we had the chance."_ It sneered.

Stiles breathing became rapid. He desperately wanted the voice to shut up. He wasn't strong enough to listen to it today.

Stiles laid his fingers on the rim of the glass, reveling the feeling of the cold liquid on his calloused hand. "Just one drink. One drink and it'll stop." He said to himself.

The nogitsune laughed deviously. _"You're so weak, Stiles." _

Stiles ignored the terrorizing voice in his head and slowly picked the glass up. The voice was always there, always threatening him but tonight it was much worse. Tonight he couldn't ignore it.

He was completely defenseless.

"I just want it to stop." Stiles said to himself sadly. He was so damned tired of that voice.

Just as Stiles was about to take a sip of his drink, he heard a familiar female voice breaking through the bar.

"Vodka Tonic, please." The pretty voice slurred.

Stiles turned around to see Lydia drunkenly leaning over the bar wearing a short cocktail dress and a face full of makeup.

"Lydia?" Stiles asked as he walked up to her and left his drink behind. He frowned when he noticed Lydia slightly stumble.

It was obvious she was drunk.

"Stiles! What are you doing here?" Lydia said excitedly, strangling him into a hug.

Stiles looked back down at his drink and shook his head, choosing to lie. "Just hanging out. Trying to clear my head. How many drinks have you had by chance, Lydia?"

Lydia grinned lopsidedly. "Oh yhou know, a fhew." She said as she accidently tripped and grabbed Stiles' arms for dear life. "Sorry." She giggled.

Stiles chuckled. "It's fine. I think we should get you home though, Lyds. Do you have a ride?"

Lydia shook her head. "Nope. My friend stole the car and went home with some guy. Man, I'll tell ya, Malia sure is a real slut sometimes."

Stiles winced. Lydia wasn't just drunk. She was _really_ drunk. Like singing to _Milli Vanilli songs_ drunk. "Okay, I'll take you home then" He said as he gently led Lydia towards the door.

When they got to the jeep, Lydia smiled sheepishly. "Um Stiles? I hate to tell you this, but you don't know where I live so how is this gonna work?" She asked.

Stiles groaned. Leave it to Lydia to still be smarter than him when she's completely wasted.

"Lyds, hand me your phone." He demanded.

Lydia nodded silently and slowly shifted through her purse. "So bossy." She said when she finally found her phone and handed it to Stiles.

Stiles said nothing as he tried to find a name he recognized through her long list of contacts.

"Scott's on speed dial. Nh-nnumber one." Lydia stammered.

Stiles nodded and ignored the pinch of jealously he felt as he dialed the number. "Scott? Hey it's Stiles."

"Stiles? Why do you have Lydia's phone?" Scott asked sleepily.

"Well um…..you see…."Stiles stuttered as he grabbed hold of Lydia with one arm when she nearly fell from the curb.

"Hey Scott!" Lydia suddenly yelled from over the phone. "Stiles my dear, would you please hand me my phone?" She said.

Stiles quickly obligated and handed Lydia her cell. "Hi Scott! It's Lydia. Hey, have I ever told you how brown Stiles' eyes are? I mean you should really see them, they're like so beautiful." She giggled.

Stiles swiftly grabbed the phone from Lydia and sighed. "So, obviously she's drunk."

Stiles could hear Scott start shuffling around from the other line. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Where are you guys?" He asked, failing to stifle a yawn.

Stiles frowned. "No, no, no, Scott. It's fine. Just tell me where she lives and I'll take her home." He suggested as he took hold of Lydia's hand when she began to slither out of his arm and walk away.

"I don't think that's a good idea. How much have you guys been drinking anyways?" Scott asked defensively.

Stiles rolled his eyes. If Scott had any idea how ironic that statement was right now….. "Do you seriously think I'm stupid enough to drink and drive? I'm a cop, dude. Just text me the address." Stiles said angrily. He knew he and Scott weren't exactly on good terms but did he seriously think he'd ever put Lydia in harm's way?

Scott sighed. "Fine. When you get there, the keys are under the mat."

"Thanks. Bye." Stiles spite back, ending the phone call immediately. Scott sure knew how to piss him off.

Lydia walked over to Stiles and leaned her head against his shoulder "What's wrong, grumpy?" She asked.

Stiles bit his tongue quickly and wrapped his arm around Lydia's small frame. "Nothing. Let's just get you home."

* * *

Lydia's apartment wasn't big like Stiles expected. It was small and faint with awful yellow walls in every room. She had no TV or stereo or any personal photos hanging on the wall. It really was as if anyone could live there. It certainly didn't remind Stiles of the beautiful, vibrant girl who he held in his arms at the moment.

"Jesus Lydia, did you just move in or something?" Stiles scowled.

Lydia frowned and shook her head. "Nope. I've lived here for almost three years. Kinda sad isn't it?" Lydia said stumbling as she tried to take her coat off.

Stiles silently helped her shrug out of her coat and bit his lip. He was too tired to get into all of this psychological crap tonight. "Let's get you to bed." He muttered.

* * *

"Why are you taking care of me now?" Lydia asked as Stiles led her to her room.

"What do you mean?" Stiles laughed halfheartedly while he forcibly removed her hand that laid in his hair.

"You left me. Why do you care now?" She said seriously, focusing hard on her speech so it didn't slur.

"I've always cared about you Lydia." Stiles said tiredly. He just wanted to do was go to bed and sleep but at the moment, Lydia was dead set on talking.

"Why did you leave me?" Lydia asked, her voice alarmingly broken.

Stiles froze. "W-what?" He whispered. Where did this come from? Wasn't she just laughing a minute ago?

"I needed you." Lydia said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "Did I do something wrong?"

Stiles felt his chest tighten. "No, no, no of course not." He said, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it. "Why would you think that?" Stiles asked nervously.

"You didn't know. " Lydia whispered, her gaze glued to their joined hands. "You didn't know that I loved you."

Stiles gulped. What? Was she serious? He looked at Lydia carefully, noticing her tear stained porcelain skin and shaking hands. Even though she was drunk, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

"I still do, you know. I still love you. And I know I shouldn't after everything you did, but I do." Lydia rambled on, her eyebrows furrowing as she talked.

Stiles could feel the guilt building up inside of him, threatening to break free. He quickly shook off the feeling and let go of her hand.

"You should go to sleep, Lyds." He whispered anxiously as he slowly pulled the bed sheets over her. He suddenly wanted to run as fast as he could away from Lydia and the guilt.

Lydia quickly grabbed Stiles' hand as he took a step back. "Stay with me, please." She begged.

Stiles winced at the desperation in her voice and the tight hold on his arm. He really didn't want to stay. He just felt claustrophobic and sick being near Lydia as she confessed all of her feelings to him.

But he knew he couldn't leave her. Especially now that he knew how she felt about him.

"Okay." He said simply. He should have just let Scott take her home.

Slowly Lydia pulled Stiles onto the bed next to her and snuggled into his side. After a while, her female voice broke out from the dark, silent room. "Stiles?"

"Yeah?" He whispered, surprised she was still awake after everything.

"Promise me you'll stay."

Stiles smiled sadly. "I'm here Lyds, aren't I?"

Lydia frowned. "No, I mean stay in Beacon Hills." She said, snuggling closer to Stiles. "I miss you."

Stiles went rigid. What was he supposed to say that? Could he afford to make her that promise? She might not even remember this conversation in the morning so should he bother saying anything?

He knew there were a lot of reasons not to stay in Beacon Hills. There were still dangers lurking every corner, still people who hated his guts.

But there were also people here who needed him. There was Lydia, who had secretly been in love him for years and Parrish who needed Stiles' help to protect the city. If he stayed, maybe he could redeem himself. Maybe he could find peace.

He didn't want to be selfish anymore. He didn't want to be lonely.

It was time to confront his fears and take control of his own life for once.

"I promise."

* * *

"No. No. No. Absolutely not! No, you are not staying here Stiles. It's not okay." John said adamantly as he sat next to Melissa at the kitchen table. They were supposed to be having a goodbye dinner for the former Sheriff and his son but things weren't going exactly as planned.

It was an understatement to say John was pissed when Stiles confessed to him that he would stay in Beacon Hills to explore "career opportunities".

"You're not staying in this hell hole." John yelled, his face completely red.

"Dad!" Stiles screamed back. He was infuriated that his father wouldn't listen to him. He was a grown ass man and could take care of himself.

"You know what, this is not up for discussion!" John said firmly.

"John-" Melissa said softly, trying to diffuse the tension between the father and the son. For once, she was thankful Scott ditched Sunday dinner. He most certainly would have caused more drama.

"Dad, I'm twenty two years old. I can make my own decisions." Stiles said, cutting off Melissa.

"Obviously, you can't!" John said angrily as he jumped up from the table and began walking towards the door.

"Dad, listen-" Stiles said, quickly getting up from the table.

"No, Stiles. You promised!" John yelled, turning around and facing his son. He couldn't believe Stiles was making such a stupid decision.

"Look, I know this is hard for you to understand but I need to do this." Stiles said, walking up to his father.

John just scowled in response so Stiles continued. "When I left this place it was like I left a part of myself here and I want it back. I don't think I'll ever be happy until I do. I need this."

"Son, there's therapy for all of that stuff. Your "needing to find myself" excuse is complete bullshit and you know it. Stiles, if you stay, I swear to god we're done. I refuse to watch you die here." John said furiously.

Stiles could feel his eyes burning with tears. He knew what he was risking when he decided to stay. "I know and I'm sorry." He said sadly.

"Don't call. Don't email. Don't even consider visiting." John said simply as he turned around and stormed out of the door.

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He hoped his father would eventually forgive him.

Slowly, Stiles sat back down at the table and began massaging his temples. "I'm sorry you had to see that." He mumbled to Melissa.

"Just give him some time." She said sweetly, placing a comforting hand on his forearm.

_What if Dad never forgives me? What if the voices get worse? What if I'm terrible at my job and everyone hates me?_ Stiles thought.

He began to panic. Maybe his dad was right, maybe he was being stupid for staying.

"Oh my god. I have no idea what I'm doing." Stiles said, his voice shaky. He was scared. He was really scared about what would happen next.

"I know." Melissa said calmly. "But hey, why don't you stay here while you get things situated, alright? We have a spare bedroom and plenty of room for you."

Stiles considered it for a moment and then shook his head. He knew Scott wouldn't be comfortable with the situation. "I don't know if that's a good idea. "

Just then, the front door slammed open and for a split second, Stiles thought John was back.

But to Stiles dismay, Scott hastily walked into the kitchen. "Hey, mom what are we- Stiles? What are you doing here?" Scott scowled in disgusts.

Stiles' jaw clenched. _Seriously dude?_

"He's um…he's…"

"_I've had enough of this bullshit." _ Stiles thought furiously.

"I was just graciously accepting your mom's offer to let me stay here for the time being." Stiles said overly enthusiastic. He was so done today and he knew no better way to cheer himself up than to piss off Scott.

"What? Are you serious?" Scott asked his mother, panic evident in his voice.

Before Melissa could reply, Stiles answered for her. "Yup." He said, glad to see Scott's fists clench in anger. "It'll be like we always wanted Scott. We'll be roommates."

* * *

**_Much longer chapter and albeit much messier. I realize I have a lot of stuff going on so I might edit it later and clean it up._**

**_I wasn't sure if I made it clear enough, but I did confess Lydia's secret if you guys noticed._**

**_I could definitely use more reviews so please, please tell me what you guys think in the comment section._**

**_Next chapter will be up next week!_**


	6. Chapter 6: Snapped

It was an understatement to say Stiles was struggling to adjust to life in Beacon Hills.

He started to have nightmares again. The nightmares where he woke up unable to breathe, his lungs on fire from screaming so much.

He had to start locking his bedroom door at night so Melissa and Scott wouldn't be able to see his pissed stained bed sheets or the profane words he wrote on the wall while he slept. They couldn't know. Stiles couldn't let them know he was falling apart.

His panic attacks became worse too, often happening more than once a day. Sometimes they were so bad that he threw up blood or passed out on the floor from exhaustion.

It was like he was wasting away, going through the actions of life but not really living it.

The worst part of being back in town was the loneliness. Stiles couldn't tell anyone about the dreams or the anxiety because he knew no one would want to hear it.

Everyone wanted to believe he was better, so Stiles played the role. He acted busy, too caught up in work to make friends or go out and behaved like a good guy should.

On the inside, he could feel his anxiety eating away his bones, turning him into a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

And when Stiles exploded, boy did he explode.

* * *

"Um….I have work in like twenty minutes." Scott said to Stiles, scratching his head awkwardly one morning as both he and Stiles stood in front of the bathroom.

"_Was that his nice way of saying he wanted to use the bathroom first?_" Stiles thought to himself.

Living in close quarters with Scott didn't make functioning like a normal person any easier.

While Scott had no quarrels making his nightly randevús with Kira known, Stiles hated it when Scott would look at him warily, surely remembering his previous nights screams.

They weren't friends anymore, they weren't brothers and at times, Stiles didn't even know if they were acquaintances. On some level he was grateful for that fact though. He never had to explain himself to anyone because no one cared.

Had he not been so exhausted from work the previous night, Stiles may have obliged when Scott asked to use the bathroom first, but naturally with him being Stiles and all, he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in days. "I haven't taken a shower in three days and Parrish has already called me at least three times in the last half hour." Stiles refuted.

Even though Stiles physically couldn't sleep much anymore, his job didn't allow him to do much of it anyways.

Stiles work schedule was nuts. Parrish had become rather desperate in the Rafael case and had Stiles running all over town following every possible lead that he thought was justified.

"Look, it'll only be like ten minutes. " Scott said, sounding annoyed.

Stiles could feel himself slipping. His depression was getting worse and his anxiety was becoming out of control. He wanted to scream. "I don't care, Scott. I was here first." He said blandly.

Scott looked at Stiles carefully for a moment before darting into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. "Sorry, dude." He laughed.

Looking back, Stiles knew it was supposed to be a joke. He knew Scott was just trying to be funny but with the combination of sleep deprivation and anger, he snapped.

"GAHHH! FUCK YOU!" He screamed into the door with all of the energy he could muster up. He began to kick the door repeatedly and scream profanities until his throat started to burn. He kicked and he kicked and kicked until he heard Melissa run up the stairs.

"What the hell is going on? Stiles, sweetie what's wrong?" She said, slowly walking towards him.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Stiles said, breathing heavily.

Melissa looked at him carefully. "Stiles, you're bleeding." She said, gesturing towards his feet which were in fact, bleeding.

Stiles stared at the blood gushing from his toes almost in awe. He couldn't even feel the pain.

"Stiles, let me help you." Melissa said softly, reaching for him.

"I said I'm fine!" Stiles screamed at her. "Just leave me alone!" He yelled as he ran into his bedroom only to hear his phone receive a text message.

_From Parrish:_

_My office. Now._

Shit. First Scott and now Parrish. He couldn't believe he just did that. What was he thinking, freaking out like that in front of Melissa and Scott? Now they'll know he's crazy. "GOD DAMMIT!" He cried in frustration, throwing his phone at the wall and watching it smash into tiny pieces.

* * *

Stiles didn't have much time to calm down when he reached the station. When he opened the office doors he came face to face with his childhood arch nemesis.

Phillip Daniels.

Do you remember those people in high school that lived in the limelight? They were the jerks and the snobs and the bullies who made your life miserable and the only reason you didn't crack was because you knew, you just knew that after high school it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter who was popular or who was a loser because in the real world we're all the same.

Yeah, neither did Stiles.

Phillip Daniels terrorized Stiles all through elementary school, bullying him mercilessly. Stiles hated him with a burning passion and in the last five years, his hatred for the man only grew.

Phillip was still the same douche he was back in school, except now he had a gun.

"Well aren't we lucky to be graced with the presence of Mr. Stilinski today, gentlemen. Your Daddy couldn't get you off of work today, huh?" Phillip smirked, leaning backward in his seat and extenuating his protruding belly and sweaty underarms.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Phillip did this every god damn day and usually Stiles could ignore it, but today he simply didn't have the energy. "Aww the Daddy joke, so original." He replied back sarcastically.

Phillip snickered. "I still can't believe Sherriff Parrish gave you a job here. I mean didn't you stay in a looney bin for a while? No wonder they're no closer to solving the Rafael case."

Stiles flinched. He hated any mention of the Eichen House. He still remembered all too vividly the way he felt like a trapped animal, falling prey to evil orderlies and insane roommates. Bile burned his throat at the memory and Stiles glared at Phillip. "Shut the hell up." He growled.

Phillip raised an eyebrow and smiled evilly. "Struck a nerve, did I?"

Stiles fist clenched as he felt his uncontrollable anger coiling up inside, shaking him to the core. "Look you little-"

"Stiles, can I see you in my office?" Parrish asked suddenly from his office, snapping Stiles back to reality.

Stiles nodded and slowly turned away from Phillip, internally cursing himself for letting his anger get the best of him. Why couldn't he control it today?

While Stiles walked into the office, his brain racked for a line of apologies. "I'm sorry about that. He's just-"

Parrish held his hand up to stop Stiles. "This isn't about Phillip. He's a jackass. This is about them." He said gesturing to a photo of two teenagers who couldn't be older than sixteen holding hands.

"Them? Who are they?" Stiles asked, examining the photos. There was nothing special about them. They just looked like ordinary kids.

"They're our latest additions to our missing persons list." Parrish said, shaking his head sadly before he took the picture and added it to their corkboard of cases behind him.

Stiles took a step next Parrish, examining all of the victim's pictures thoroughly. "Our lists is getting alarmingly long."

Parrish nodded silently.

Stiles eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a second. "Wait, what does this have to do with the Rafael case?"

Parrish took a deep breath before answering. "Before you got here, Agent McCall was working on these exact cases and now he's dead. That's not a coincidence, Stiles. Not in this town at least. I think whoever killed Rafael, has something to do with these cases." He confessed.

Silence filled the office, a million questions drowning Stiles' mind. "We have to find out how they are all connected." He decided after a moment.

Parrish yanked at his hair in frustration and sighed. "That's the thing, I don't think they have anything in common with each other. One victim's forty-five years old and another's sixteen. I think this is random choosing."

Stiles shook his head. "Something's missing. We aren't seeing the bigger picture here. Maybe we should call for reinforcements, like the FBI or something." He suggested.

"I've already tried that. They said that as long as they're just missing person cases, they can't send someone down." Parrish said angrily. "We're fucking sitting ducks."

Stiles couldn't help but snort. "Do you seriously believe these people left town?" He asked incredulously.

Parrish scoffed at the accusation. "I'm not stupid, Stiles. I've worked here long enough to know that nothing is as it seems."

"What are you saying, Parrish?" Stiles asked tiredly.

"I'm saying that I don't think these people are missing. I think they're as dead as Agent McCall and we just haven't found the bodies yet."

Stiles looked at Parrish carefully before speaking. "What's our next move?"

"I have no idea, but I have a feeling we're gonna need to make one fast because if I'm right about this, we might have a serial killer loose in town."

"_Or a crazy, blood thirsty monster." _Stiles thought.

* * *

It took an enormous amount of desperation for Stiles to knock on Scott's bedroom door that evening. He was positive Scott was going to let him have it for what happened this morning but he really had no other choice. He needed Scott.

"What do you want?" Scott asked in confusion, trying his best to conceal a sleeping Kira from Stiles' view when he opened the door.

"I need your help." Stiles said simply, looking at Scott seriously.

Scott stiffened for a moment before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door. "With?" He asked, crossing his arms and eyeing Stiles suspiciously.

"How much do you know about the missing person cases?" Stiles asked quickly, annoyed with the arrogance in Scott's voice. He wanted to turn around and leave but he knew he couldn't do his job without the help of Scott. He needed to know everything.

"Not much. Why?"

Stiles closed his eyes. "Because I think that whatever is taking these people, whatever killed your father, isn't human. If it were, we would have found the culprit by now."

Scott eyed Stiles cautiously, unsure of what to make of his former friend's confession. "Okay. What does that have to do with me?"

"You're a werewolf, dude. You and the rest of the pack are the only ones that can help me find whatever it is that's taking these people." Stiles said, faltering at the fact that he sounded so desperate.

Oh, what the hell. He was desperate. "Please."

Scott couldn't help but notice the neediness in Stiles' voice. His demeanor suddenly softened. "Look, I want to help but I need to talk to the pack first, okay?"

Stiles shook his head. He didn't have time to wait for some bitter werewolves to take action. He needed to do something now. "Is this about this morning? Scott, that was nothing…" Stiles asked bitterly.

A flash of anger ran through Scott's body. "This isn't about this morning." He said furiously. "I don't know what the fuck your problem is and to be honest, I really don't care. I still need to talk to the pack about this. If they're not comfortable helping you, then I'll figure something else out, alright? Are we good?"

Stiles bit his tongue and nodded his agreement as he turned to head down the hall. He stopped when he noticed the cracked bathroom door, chunks of chipped wood covering the floor.

No, they weren't good.

Nothing about this was good.

* * *

_**Well that was darker than I first anticipated! Please, please, please tell me what you guys think of the story. I'm trying really hard to build up some mystery in the story and keep you guys interested. As far as Scott and Stiles' friendship, it will definitely get better but not without some trouble along the way. Suggestions are always welcomed!**_


	7. Chapter 7: Stranger

**_So this took me a ridiculous amount of time to post and for that I'm super sorry. Since I've kind of turned this story into a mystery, I wanted to make sure everything fit into place for the next few chapters and ultimately the rest of the story. _**

**_My apologies for the delay._**

**_Check out my Tumblr account "godailytina_****_" __where I do frequent updates on the progress of my stories._**

* * *

Chapter 7:

Stiles had never considered himself a patient man. He wasn't very fond of letting things fall into place or waiting for the best option to arise. He believed in instant action, instant gratification and easy accessibility.

So you can imagine his displeasure when Scott refused to help him with the Rafael case until he talked to his pack. The wait was excruciating and it was needless to say Stiles was slowly going mad. Since his conversation with Scott, Stiles had gone through six packs of cigarettes in the span of two days and had successfully bitten down his fingernails to the numb.

He really didn't know if Scott was going to help him or not. He certainly _hoped_ Scott would help him because at this point, with ten people missing, he was scared he was going to either lose his job or lose his mind (_again)_. Stiles knew that the Rafael case had taken over his life in every possible way. No matter what he did or what he said, the case would always slowly creep back up into his mind and consume all of his thoughts. He was determined to solve this case even if it killed him.

* * *

It was three dates after Stiles' plea to Scott when he finally learned the pack's decision. He had been sitting on the front porch of the McCall house smoking yet another cigarette when he heard Scott drive up to the house.

"Hi." Stiles said nervously when he saw Scott make his way to the front porch.

Scott's eyes were glued to Stiles' cigarette, a look of disgust plastered on his face. "Hey."

Stiles gulped nervously as he quickly dropped the bud from his hand and smashed it. "Everything good?" He asked stupidly. Of course things weren't good. He had asked his former best friend to help him solve a murder case!

"We have a pack meeting at Derek's place tonight. You should probably come by." Scott said, refusing to make eye contact with Stiles.

Stiles looked at Scott questioningly, unable to read his friend's expression. "Yeah sure, I'll be there."

Scott finally met Stiles' gaze. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late, alright." He demanded as he pushed past Stiles and went inside the house slamming the door behind him.

Relief washed through Stiles like a tidal wave. At least he was getting somewhere on this case. Stiles looked up at the sky and smiled slightly. "Thank you." He whispered to whoever the hell was up there giving him a little leeway.

* * *

Contrary to belief, Derek's loft wasn't near the police station. Stiles had to drive a good thirty minutes from the station to the loft and during that time he had thoroughly convinced himself that this was a terrible idea. The pack hated him. Why by any means would they want to help him?

When he had finally reached the loft, Stiles paused before he knocked on the door. He took a deep breath and tried to brace himself for the potential disaster that this moment could be.

What if the pack didn't help him? What would he do then?

"Aww, screw it." Stiles breathed out before knocking on the door bravely and standing his ground. He had to do this. He had no choice.

He was unhappily surprised when it was not Scott or Derek who answered the door but Isaac who was glaring at him with such furiosity that Stiles could swear he saw his yellow eyes flicker.

"What are you doing here?" Isaac growled, crossing his arms and blocking the entrance.

Before Stiles could respond with a sarcastic remark, Scott was quickly by Isaac's side, shoving the door open enough for Stiles to enter. "I invited him." He said casually, ignoring Isaac's blatant scowl.

"Why?" Isaac said angrily, glancing at Stiles' work uniform.

Stiles shifted awkwardly at the door, unsure of whether to enter the loft or not. He knew Scott was still the alpha of the pack and that his approval mattered, but he also knew Isaac hated his guts and would easily rip his throat out if given the chance.

He decided it was best to stay still for the time being.

"Because the pack voted and we all agreed to help him." Scott replied, sending Isaac a menacing glare.

Isaac scoffed. "Are you kidding? You, Lydia, Kira and Malia agreed to help. Derek and I-" Isaac said, gesturing towards him and Derek who stood stiffly by the window, "said no…repeatedly."

Scott rolled his eyes and looked at Stiles uncomfortably. "You can come in but I can't promise you this will be pleasant." Scott warned.

Stiles nodded silently as he mustered up a quick smile and entered the room quietly. The minute he got into the room, he could feel the tension thicken around him. He knew they were all staring at him, hearing his rapid heart rate.

After sharing a few more words, Scott and Isaac followed Stiles through the loft. It was then that Stiles noticed who had all been included in the pack. There was Derek who stood by the window brooding, Malia, Kira and Lydia who all sat together on the couch next to the staircase, and Isaac and Scott who both stood on the opposite wall from Stiles.

Stiles caught Lydia's gaze for a second and she smiled softly at him, her eyes filling with concern and possibly pity. Stiles quickly averted his eyes from her gaze and looked at the floor feeling sick to his stomach.

After her whole drunken love confession, Stiles had done his best to avoid Lydia at all costs. He felt awkward and uncomfortable about the whole thing and he wasn't sure if he felt the same way anymore. He knew he still cared about her but did he love her? He wasn't so sure. Five years of self-hatred and bitterness didn't make ones belief of love very strong.

Scott was the first to break the silence in the room by awkwardly coughing at Stiles, silently gesturing for him to start the conversation somehow.

"Look I know you guys all hate me but-"

"Hates an understatement." Isaac interrupted irritably.

"But I'm desperate." Stiles said hastily. "I've been working on this case, your dad's case Scott, and then more I Iearn about it, the worse I feel about this town." Stiles said. The way Scott's father died, the amount of missing people, the lack of bodies found, it was all adding up to something way too familiar and way too horrible.

"Scott, before your father died he was working on the disappearance of a man named Benet Rogers. Benet was last seen in his dorm room by his college roommate on a full moon. Then one week later, your father gets another missing person's case. This time it was a girl named Eliza Henley, last seen by her mother in her bedroom. _Then_ the next week he gets a case about a little kid named Fred Carter. Fred's last known whereabouts were also his room. Today we have a total of ten people missing, all of which who have taken from their bedrooms in the middle of the night."

Isaac shrugged. "And?"

Stiles took a deep breath before answering. This is where the story got tricky. "Two days ago I was looking through Rafael's personal notes in his office and I found something strange. It turns out, after searching one of the homes, Scott's dad found a hair sample on a window. He sent it to the lab and got it tested and it turns out it was animal hair. Except, it wasn't normal animal hair. Whatever species of animal this hair came from doesn't exists."

A look of panic crossed Kira's face and she swallowed nervously. "You think this animal is taking these people?

Stiles shook his head. "I think it's something stronger. And the case gets worse, before Rafael could report his findings, he was murdered. I think that whatever is taking these people, killed Rafael so he wouldn't talk." Stiles said adamantly.

The room remained dead silent for a few moments and Stiles frowned in confusion. "You all aren't acting the way I thought you would." He said.

Scott looked noticeably uncomfortable as his eyes shifted from Isaac to Derek to the rest of the pack. "Scott? What's going on?" Stiles asked.

"You know how Rafael died, right?" Malia suddenly asked.

Stiles nodded uneasily. Of course he did. When Parrish made him talk to the medical examiner, he almost threw up when he found out the news. "Yeah….his heart was ripped out of his chest." Stiles whispered. That was the other part of the case that made is so damn surreal. The way Rafael died was definitely from something unhuman. There was no possible way otherwise. "Clearly not by human hands."

"Yes, but there's something else you don't know. We couldn't find another scent." Malia replied, looking directly at Stiles. "When we investigated the scene, all we picked up was Rafael's. Whatever it was that killed him, didn't have a scent. Last time I checked, all animals _and_ people have a scent of some kind." She continued.

Everyone stared at her in shock, both Derek and Isaac sending her angry glares.

Malia looked up at them and glared straight back, looking unfazed. "What? He said he was desperate. And I thought we all agreed to help him. Obviously this thing that killed Rafael has something to do with these missing person cases."

Stiles couldn't help but scowl. "Were you seriously not going to tell me that?!" He yelled at Scott. "That's clearly important information!" How could this thing not have a scent? What animal, what creature doesn't have a scent?!

Derek took a step towards Stiles menacingly. "We don't know if we trust you yet." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Was he serious? "I'm trying to protect this town! I need you guys to be honest with me!"

Scott frowned at Stiles. "We didn't think it would matter. We weren't even sure you were going to stay long enough for us to tell you."

"Of course it fucking matters! Your father was murdered by something that you can't even identify and you don't think that matters? God Scott, this thing-this creature or whatever the hell it is has killed your father and ten innocent people!" Stiles screamed.

"Stiles, calm down. We don't know if these people are actually dead. You said so yourself that you haven't found the bodies." Kira said.

"And I haven't felt the need to scream in years." Lydia added.

Stiles pulled at his hair in frustration. "They all didn't just leave town. It's not a coincidence that Rafael died investigating these exact cases. And it's definitely not by chance that his heart was ripped out of his chest by something without a scent. Maybe this thing killing these people knows how to block supernatural senses like smelling any hearing. "

Isaac snorted "This is so stupid." He spit. "The reason Lydia's not screaming is because these people aren't dead!"

Stiles shook his head. It wasn't that simple. It couldn't be that simple. He knew something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. "Explain what happened to Scott's dad then and the animal hair left at all of the scenes." He retorted.

"Who cares?! It was an animal attack, not a robbery. We all knew that. And the reason we didn't pick up a scent at the scene was because it was raining the night he died. The scent would've washed away before we got there. Beacon Hills isn't dangerous anymore. We haven't had another supernatural problem in years. Why are we questioning it?"

Stiles resisted the urge to scream. God, Isaac was so clueless sometimes. "Look-"

"We live by a forest, of course you're going to find animal DNA in houses. You come back here acting like we owe you our honesty or something and it pisses me off. This little investigation of yours is waste of all of our time. We don't miss Rafael and we don't care about these people who decided to make a statement and leave town. We have spent the last five years making sure this town is safe and I refuse to let you come back here and screw it up for us."

Isaac took a step closer to Stiles, invading his personal space and chuckling. "You're still the same coward you were back in high school, Stiles. I can smell it on you, you know? The fear, the anxiety, the guilt. Why do you feel so guilty, Stiles? Is it because you killed those police officers? Tortured your best friend? Or is it because you killed Allis-"

Before Stiles could think about what he was doing, he felt his fist connecting with Isaac's jaw. He knew it was a mistake immediately after he did it, but he still couldn't deny the joy he felt when he heard the crackling of bones beneath his fists. Isaac shrieked in pain and immediately staggered back in surprise, covering his jaw. He could feel the broken bones rapidly trying to repair themselves. Stiles had broken his jaw.

"Stiles!" Lydia screamed as she covered her mouth in shock.

Stiles didn't wait for a response from Isaac or the rest of the pack. He ran towards the front door, ignoring his throbbing hand and closed his eyes, begging his heart to calm down. "I can't do my job without you guys telling me the truth. I know I'm not wrong about this. There is something taking these people and whatever it is, it killed Rafael. " He said at the door, finally looking at everyone. They stood there, staring at him in shock and maybe in slight fear.

"If you all refuse to help me, I'll find a way to do it myself. I won't let someone else be taken." He said adamantly. He looked at Lydia for a moment, his heart dropping out of his chest at the sight of her tears. "I'm sorry." He muttered, looking directly at her. "I'm sorry."

He didn't really know what he had expected from this meeting, but it certainly wasn't this. He knew they wouldn't happily welcome him back in the group but he at least thought they'd be honest with him.

Whatever. If he had to find this creature all by himself, then he would. After all, he always was the brains of the pack, right? He didn't need them.

One way or another, he was solving this case.

* * *

**_Was this okay? I'm sorry if it sucks. There's not much Stydia in this chapter and to be honest, there won't be in the next one either BUT after that, Lydia will become a huge part of the story and will have at least one scene with Stiles every chapter. _**

**_Reviews would be lovely!_**


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